


All Creatures Great and Small

by bladespark



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley is a cat, Depression, Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 18:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19409236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladespark/pseuds/bladespark
Summary: Aziraphale is pretty sure he never got a cat, but he has one now all the same, a skinny black cat with suspiciously familiar eyes...





	All Creatures Great and Small

Aziraphale was quite certain he’d never had a cat in the bookshop.

He knew about the tradition of bookshop cats, of course, but he had never been particularly interested. There was something far too intimidating about the idea of being responsible for another living creature in that way. And the thought of cat hair on his books was somewhat alarming. Not to mention the less civilized things that cats sometimes did.

And yet, when he walked into the bookshop on the first Monday of the rest of the universe, ready to settle back into his comfortable life, he found a slender, black, shorthaired cat with ridiculously large ears napping on a stack of books.

Aziraphale stared at the cat in bafflement.

The cat stretched lazily, licked itself once, then looked at Aziraphale with a look that said, “What are you looking at?” The cat’s amber-gold eyes, with their slit pupils, were surprisingly familiar, and Aziraphale found himself blurting out, “Crowley?”

The cat didn’t reply, it just walked in a circle atop the broad cover of a very fine collection of Michelangelo’s sketches and curled up there, tucking its tail over its nose.

Maybe it wasn’t Crowley. But if so, how had the cat gotten into the shop? No, it _had_ to be Crowley. Those eyes… Aziraphale knew those eyes. “Crowley, dear, why are you being a cat?”

The cat yawned, showing a long tongue and a startling array of fangs, then re-curled itself facing the other direction.

Aziraphale regarded the cat for a moment longer, then shook his head wryly and went about the business of getting the shop ready to open for the day.

The cat wandered around the shop all day, and the customers seemed to like it. To like _him_. Half an hour or so spent licking himself very, very, _very_ shamelessly made it very clear that the cat was a he, and unfixed at that. Aziraphale had a thought about spraying, and other unsavory habits of unfixed cats, and almost took the cat and threw him out, but, well… He had reason to suspect that this particular cat would refrain from doing anything so terrible to his books.

At the end of the day Aziraphale closed up the shop, then made himself a cup of hot cocoa. He kept some cream on hand, for those moments when he was feeling particularly decadent, and he poured a slug into his cocoa, then put some in a saucer for the cat, though he vaguely recalled that cream was actually supposed to be bad for cats, even if they liked it. He started fretting about it as soon as he did it, but the cat lapped the cream up with hedonistic abandon.

“So, cat. Should I miracle you up some tuna too? Or some kibble?”

The cat looked up from his cream and let out a strident meow, then returned to it.

“That didn’t really sound like a yes,” said Aziraphale. “You’ll have to let me know if you’re hungry. Or if you need the litter box or anything like that. Okay, cat?”

The cat only meowed again, and Aziraphale finally allowed himself to do what part of him had been itching to do all this time, he reached out and carefully stroked his hand along the cat’s back. The cat arched, leaning into the caress, and immediately began purring loudly, furiously. Aziraphale laughed. “Oh Crowley, if it is you, which I’m pretty sure it is, you are entirely ridiculous.”

The cat only purred more, and butted his head against Aziraphale’s hand, demanding more petting. Aziraphale smiled indulgently and petted, scratching around the cat’s chin, down his back, and at the base of his tail, which made the cat arch it and wiggle shamelessly.

“Hedonist,” he murmured, and then went with his cocoa to his desk, to do some reading. The cat followed, jumping up on the desk and sitting atop the book that Aziraphale had meant to read.

“Cat,” said the angel, regarding the book. “Must you?”

The cat ignored him, only curling himself up comfortably. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh, then puled out a different book. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have a “to read” list a mile long, so it wasn’t any real inconvenience, but the cat was certainly being a nuisance. He reached out and ran a finger along the top of the cat’s head, and he began to purr, deeply and intensely, the instant he was touched.

“Oh cat.” Aziraphale shook his head fondly. “What shall I call you? Probably shouldn’t call you Crowley, but I can’t keep calling you ‘cat’ can I? Or maybe I can.” He thought then of Adam’s dog named “dog” and laughed. He wasn’t a creative sort, so he couldn’t think of anything better, and if the Antichrist’s hellhound could be called dog, why couldn’t his probably demonic cat be called cat? “I suppose ‘Cat’ you are, unless you have a better suggestion?” He looked at the cat, who studiously refused to look back, though he was rubbing his cheek against Aziraphale’s hand all the while.

With another chuckle Aziraphale cupped the cat’s entire head in his hand and ruffled his ears. The cat didn’t seem to mind this at all, only pushing into the rough caress, still purring. “Very well, Cat. I suppose I don’t mind the company, really.” He opened the cover of his book and settled in for the evening, cocoa at one elbow, Cat at the other, and when the dawn came and he set the book aside, Cat was still there, seemingly asleep on the desk beside him. He stroked the cat gently, so as to not wake him, and then yawned, stretched, and set about the morning routine.

Once again the cat hung about the bookshop all day, making no move to bolt for the door whenever it was opened. He solicited petting from any and every likely-seeming customer, sat atop piles of books, and generally made a mild nuisance of himself, which only made Aziraphale more certain he must be Crowley, but the angel found he didn’t mind. He liked the cat’s company.

The cat didn’t appear to need food or a litterbox, and Aziraphale never caught him going outside, though he was busy enough running the bookshop that the cat certainly could have been gone for long stretches and he might not have noticed. In all that time, though, Crowley didn’t visit once, and Aziraphale found that he wanted to believe the cat was truly the demon in disguise. The alternative was thinking that Crowley didn’t want to see him again, and that was unthinkable. Cat must be Crowley, surely.

A week passed, with cat and angel living closely together. The cat even sometimes napped on his chest, when he rested on the couch in the back room. It was a sweet thing even if Cat was only an animal, and even sweeter if he was Crowley.

Finally, eight days after Cat first appeared, nine days after Armageddon, Aziraphale went to get the saucer of cream for Cat, and when he turned back Crowley was standing there, golden eyes just the same, leaning against the wall that Cat had been leaning against only second before.

“Hey.”

“Oh! Crowley. Ah. Hello.”

“Not really feeling cream tonight. Got anything stronger?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale went to the pantry, where the entire back wall was a wine rack, and picked out a pair of bottles. Not the Chateauneuf de Pape, they’d drunk all of that in the run-up to the Apocalypse that wasn’t, and although they had put it back in the bottles while sobering up, Aziraphale never ever, ever drank the same bottle twice. That simply wasn’t right.

Instead he picked out a nice Italian blend and emerged into the kitchen, where Crowley was already sprawled bonelessly in a chair, sunglasses on the table in front of him. His eyes were just the same as Cat’s, golden and inhuman and expressive. They were full of shadows tonight, and he said nothing as Aziraphale poured a generous glass for him.

He downed all of it in one heroic chug, then slammed the glass down, which made Aziraphale wince for its delicate stem, but it didn’t break. The angel silently poured more, and this time Crowley only sipped, thank Somebody.

“Crowley? Er. It’s good to see you being, you know, yourself.”

“Dunno if it’s good to _be_ myself,” muttered the demon into his glass.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale wanted to reach out to him, but didn’t quite dare. They’d gotten so close, and said so many things during the frantic run-up to the end of the world, but now he didn’t know how to address any of that, how to say anything at all about Crowley and what the demon had done for him. Or what he’d done for the demon, for that matter.

“It’s fine, angel,” said Crowley. “It’s all fine. I’ll just get nice and drunk, and everything will be fine for a while.”

Aziraphale scowled. “You know that’s not really going to fix…whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

Crowley waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. And you’re fine too, angel. Thanks for the cream, by the way. It’s nice, being a cat.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a while, then shook his head. “If you say so.”

“You could try it out.”

“No thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” He took a swig of his wine, and it wasn’t long before he’d emptied one bottle and made a good start on another. Aziraphale was drinking much more slowly, savoring the wine as a pleasure, not as a means to get drunk. Something about Crowley’s attitude tonight worried him. They’d both gotten gloriously drunk together out of sheer terror when they’d found out the world was ending. Why was Crowley drinking like that again now that it was all saved?

Quite some time later Crowley said, “Angel?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale tried to not pounce on the query.

“Do you think… Do you think that the Ineffable Plan is like… _good?_ ”

Aziraphale blinked. “Well, it’s the Almighty’s plan. It’d have to be, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s the question. That. Is the question,” said Crowley, slurring ever so slightly. “That is the very question that… Fuck. See, I’ve made you ask it now! Sorry. I don’t think angels fall for that kind of thing now. But that…that… Well, I suppose it wasn’t quite that. It was about suffering, you see?”

Aziraphale wanted to hold his breath. He sensed that Crowley was sharing something very important with him, and he had the feeling that if he said the wrong thing he’d botch it horribly. “I’m afraid I don’t see,” he replied hesitantly, when Crowley’s pause made it clear a reply was expected.

“I asked her. You know. _Her_. I asked Her about suffering. It was in the plan, in the Great Plan, the bit that wasn’t ineffable because it was the bit we could see, the bit we were building when we made it all. It made me glad I only did stars. Stars don’t suffer. Stars don’t feel pain…” Aziraphale was shocked to see that there were tears in Crowley’s eyes. Without thinking about it he reached out and took Crowley’s hand, squeezing it gently. Crowley squeezed back tightly enough to hurt.

“See, I questioned it, because I thought suffering was evil. But maybe it wasn’t. I’ve started to think maybe… I mean maybe it really does mean something. Maybe it’s not just pain. All that really good stuff people make, all the good music and poetry and all that. Maybe even some of the good food? The really, really _really_ good stuff, it’s all out of suffering, see? So maybe She was right. Maybe the suffering was good. And when we were facing down Gabriel, you know, and Beelzebub, them. I argued for the Ineffable Plan! I did! I argued for it, and right then that seemed right. Maybe it was always right. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Oh Crowley…”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale blearily, and somehow the sight of tears on Crowley’s cheeks was wrong, shocking, horrible. Aziraphale felt himself wanting to miracle them away, wanting to do anything to make them not be there. “I can’t think about that right now. I can’t. I can’t think about music, or art or any of it. I can’t even look at the damn Bentley, it’s too much a work of art. I can’t… I can’t right now. I just want to not think, do you see? Not think about humans or suffering or demons or angels or anything.” He pushed back his glass suddenly, and stood, and a moment later there was a skinny black cat zooming away from the table to hide underneath a bookshelf, with Aziraphale staring after, blinking a suspicious moisture from his own eyes.

Not long after a very, very drunk Aziraphale, who’d suddenly found some sorrows to drown, retired to his couch, and when the black cat came and curled up on his chest to sleep, it was somehow more soothing to his worries than the wine had been. Crowley was here. Everything wasn’t right, but he could pet the cat and hear him purr, and for now that was enough.

****

Cat spent the entirety of the next day glued to Aziraphale, which was a little bit annoying at times. He wanted constant attention too, head-butting and begging to be petted nearly every moment. Aziraphale hardly got anything done. He only got a break when a customer cooed over Cat, for of course Cat was delighted to suck up praise and attention from anyone.

He did seem especially attached to Aziraphale himself, though, and something about that was gratifying. Aziraphale was still working his way through his feelings about Crowley. He knew what the word for them was, if he was being succinct, but the details were complicated, and even though he’d given up on the notion of being a proper, obedient angel in principle, all those millennia of worrying about rightness and righteousness weren’t going to evaporate in an instant.

Angels weren’t supposed to love demons.

He knew perfectly well that was a load of bollocks, but it worried at him a bit all the same. It was good to have this time away from assignments from Upstairs to pet Cat, and run his bookshop, and work his way through exactly what he thought and felt about a certain demon.

That lasted for nearly a month. Cat followed Aziraphale everywhere he went, to the point that he had to slip out the door rather carefully and shut it firmly behind him, lest Cat turn up at whatever restaurant he was dining at that day.

Of course he was very certain Cat could do that regardless, but Cat seemed to want to stay Cat and not do anything supernatural, and Aziraphale didn’t question that. He only petted Cat, and fed him cream, and spent most of his evenings on the sofa with a book in his lap and Cat waging a slow campaign to creep from a comfortable curl beside the angel to an inconvenient sprawl across the pages of the book.

No matter what Aziraphale did around the bookshop, Cat was always there, always needy, always wanting to be touched, petted, and scratched at the base of his tail. Aziraphale took to flipping Cat upside down in his arms and rubbing his belly, and now and again Cat ventured a weak struggle to escape, or a half-hearted attempt to bite or claw, but mostly he just purred more and rubbed his cheek against the angel’s hand.

“You’re ridiculous,” Aziraphale said more than once, but he couldn’t help but bend down and rub his cheek against the cat’s, both hearing and feeling Cat’s deep purr vibrating through him. That night, just shy of a month after the night he’d last seen Crowley, Aziraphale leaned back on the couch, holding Cat on his chest, and Cat nuzzled against his cheek, purring even more.

“Very ridiculous,” murmured Aziraphale. He tipped his head back against the couch with a soft sigh. This was utterly lovely. Even as Cat, having Crowley this close filled him with a warmth that he was finally willing to name—love. He loved the demon. Whether that affection would be returned remained to be seen, of course. There were certainly many positive signs, including the small, slender, black-furred creature currently licking his cheek and purring madly. But that might not mean anything. Crowley had retreated to feline form as an escape, and that meant he’d let his intellect be constrained by the feline brain he was using, so whatever he was thinking about, it was a cat sort of thought, not a human thought. But then if Crowley himself didn’t like Aziraphale in _some_ way, Cat would hardly have stuck around for so long. Cats weren’t known for tolerating people they didn’t actually like.

He felt, now that he’d said the word, at least in his own mind, that he really did want to say it out loud. But confessing to Cat seemed not quite right. Cat might not even understand. Though Cat did seem to understand human speech more than most cats, at least when it suited him to.

“You know, Cat, it would be lovely if I could have Crowley here right now. No obligation or anything, I’m just saying.”

Cat lifted his head and regarded Aziraphale for a moment, then jumped from his chest down to the couch, and an instant later Crowley was sitting there beside him, lounging just as bonelessly as Cat ever did.

Regarding him, Aziraphale decided to voice a hopefully safe question first, before getting into anything else. “Why a cat, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be a serpent?”

“Fewer people pet serpents,” said Crowley with a faux-casual shrug.

Aziraphale had a sudden urge to pet Crowley’s hair the way he’d petted Cat’s. Would the demon purr in human form? Crowley, though, was shifting restlessly, and after just a moment said, “Dunno if I can do being human sober still. Dunno if I’m ready, quite.”

“Well, you can go back to being a cat if you like, I won’t make you stay like this. Or I can get you a bottle of something.”

Crowley tilted his head to the side for a moment, then shrugged again. “Probably the wrong choice, but I’ll take the bottle. Share it with me, angel?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale rose, and went and picked out another nice wine from his collection. He didn’t have any that weren’t nice, of course, though a few of the oldest ones had sometimes gone off by the time he got around to them. He could miracle them back to just the right point, though, which felt less like cheating, to turn the clock back, than turning it forward to age a wine in an instant would.

Tonight he selected an American vintage, a Pinot Noir from Oregon, and poured Crowley a glass before pouring one for himself. “To cats,” he said, offering a toast,

“To cats, and serpents, and all creatures great and small,” said Crowley sardonically, and he clinked glasses with a smile that warmed Aziraphale’s heart to see.

The smile didn’t stay, though, and by the time they got into the second glass Crowley was maudlin again. Aziraphale tried to draw him onto happy topics, safe topics, chattering away about food and books and everyday, mundane things, even though Cat had been there for half the moments he mentioned.

Crowley barely responded, though, his replies growing more and more monosyllabic as he drank. Finally he leaned his chair back, two legs off the ground in a manner that always made Aziraphale want to stand behind it in case it fell over, and said, “This isn’t working. It’s not working at all. Maybe I should sober up and be a cat again.”

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I shouldn’t have asked you…”

“No! You’re fine, angel, just fine. You can ask me for anything you like. You’re great. It’s me that’s all wrong, see?”

“Crowley,” protested Aziraphale.

“It’s true! The plan, you see, the ineffable plan. It was right! It’s gotta be right. I mean, I dunno, maybe everything everywhere is entirely wrong. That’s not a happy thought either. But if the plan’s right, and I was wrong, then She was right to throw me down. She was…” Crowley suddenly tipped his chair forward and was leaning over the table, crying, and Azriaphale gave up all pretense of propriety. He knelt and put his arms around Crowley, hugging the hunched up, weeping demon as best he could.

“I’m the worst, angel. I’m the lowest of the low. I deserved to fall. I’m below the worst human who ever lived, don’t you see? I’m a demon. That’s what a demon _is_. I had all these thoughts about maybe it wasn’t so bad, and maybe the plan wasn’t that great, and maybe I was right and She was wrong, but now it seems the other way around and I’m just… I’m just a demon, angel. I’m nothing. I’m nobody. I don’t even understand why you want me around as a cat. I sure as Anywhere don’t understand why you want me here like this.”

“Oh, _Crowley_.” Aziraphale hugged him harder. “Because I love you, you daft idiot.”

Crowley looked up from his awkward hunch, at Aziraphale, equally awkwardly wrapped around his waist. “W-what?”

“I love you,” he repeated firmly. “And none of that is true at all. Angels can’t… I mean, I suppose I _can_ , though I probably _shouldn’t_ say that the Almighty was wrong to cast you out of heaven, but whatever may be in the ineffable plan, I am absolutely, completely, and utterly certain that you’re not the lowest of the low. You’re _you_. You’re Crowley. You’re full of stars and goodness and mischief and grace and questions, and the questions are part of why I love you.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale with wide, wondering eyes. “You’re not just saying that?”

“No, you daft creature. It’s all entirely true. I would never lie to you. I could go on, too.”

Crowley licked his lips and swallowed hard, then softly said, “I love you too, my angel.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale hadn’t meant to do it, exactly, and maybe Crowley had somehow started the motion, but a moment later they were kissing, the angel still kneeling awkwardly beside Crowley’s chair, and caring not one whit for the awkwardness of it as their lips met at last.

Aziraphale felt his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he finally kissed Crowley. It was simply wonderful, even if it was also rather odd. Bits of squishy, mortal flesh, pressing together. So strange. And yet so good, somehow.

Eventually they broke apart, and Aziraphale saw that Crowley looked as though the kiss had been good for him as well. The gloomy expression had vanished entirely. Crowley tilted his head sideways then, and with a tiny hint of his old impish smile said, “You could…go on?”

Aziraphale laughed, thinking of the way Cat wanted to be petted endlessly. “I could, yes. For ages. You’ve been my best friend basically forever. You saved the world.”

“Er…”

“You did! I only shouted at you to think of something, you’re the one who thought of it. I know Adam did most of the actual saving, but still. If you hadn’t done anything, I don’t think he would have. But that’s just the latest in a list of thousands of reasons why I love you.”

Crowley blinked at him, and his expression was strangely soft. “Th-thousands?”

“Thousands. I love the way you change, the way you constantly reinvent yourself. I love the way you think about absolutely everything. I love the way you fit into the world, and the way you’re not afraid to not fit in when it suits you. I love the way you’re always pushing me to do or try or think something new. I love the way you do silly little miracles for me when you know I could do them myself. I even love the way you’ve been Cat lately, the way you’ve been so shamelessly yourself even in feline form. And I love the way you look at me, the way you want my love. I know that’s what it means, that Cat always wants me to pet him. I want to give you all my love, and, well, maybe I need a bit of love too, so it’s rather delightful that you love me back.”

“I do,” said Crowley, “I love you so, so much.” Next thing Aziraphale knew Crowley was lunging forward into another kiss, his hands coming up around Aziraphale, and this time his tongue pressed at the angel’s lips, asking for entry. Aziraphale parted them to it, and his own tongue met Crowley’s, tasting him. He tasted of wine and sweetness, and Aziraphale couldn’t imagine anything better.

“Think I should sober up,” said Crowley when the kiss was done. He smiled at Aziraphale. “Don’t want this to be just a drunken moment. Don’t want you to think that…” He trailed off, frowning in concentration, and a moment later the bottle he’d been drinking from was full again. He sighed and leaned back in the chair again, though at least all four feet of it stayed on the ground this time. “Angel… I am sorry for dumping all this bull out on you.”

“What else are friends for?” said Aziraphale.

“Heh. Friends…”

“Not _just_ friends.” Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed, and he hesitated, but then leaned in and kissed Crowley again, firmly, and this time he was the one whose tongue asked for entry. A moment later Crowley was out of the chair, arms going tight around him, and a moment after that Aziraphale found himself pinned to the floor under Crowley, which was startling but also amazing. Crowley’s body pressed down on his in the most wonderful way, and his hands seemed to be trying to touch everywhere at once. Aziraphale found himself responding in kind, running his hands down Crowley’s back and then up to tangle in his hair as they kissed hotly.

Crowley finally sat back, panting as he looked down at Aziraphale. “Uh. The floor is probably hard. I can miracle us over to my place…”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, then smiled beatifically up at Crowley. “Let’s just go to my bedroom.”

Crowley frowned. “You don’t have a bedroom.”

“I _didn’t_ have a bedroom. I do now.”

Crowley blinked at him, than chuckled. “Hope Heaven doesn’t get on your case for that one.”

“Just now I do not remotely care,” said Aziraphale, then he reached out and grabbed Crowley’s shirt to pull him down for another kiss.

It took them quite some time to actually make it into Aziraphale’s newly-miracled bedroom.

****

Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly, finding himself lying quite naked in his brand-new but also somehow antique four-poster bed. He smiled blissfully as the memory of last night came flooding back through his mind. He and Crowley had made love, the first time with sudden, almost desperate passion, without even making it to the bed, but then again, sweetly, and then, well, then quite a few more times after that. Crowley had eventually expressed a desire to sleep, and Aziraphale had decided to join him, finding it a pure pleasure to drift off while embraced in Crowley’s long arms.

Said arms were nowhere to be seen, now, but he felt a familiar weight on his chest, and when he looked down he saw that Cat was curled up there, the angular creature somehow making a tidy little ball of black fur.

“Ah, Crowley,” murmured Aziraphale softly. Knowing now exactly why Crowley was spending time as Cat, it felt sad to see him there, to know that professions of love and mind-blowing sex hadn’t removed the feelings that Crowley was trying to escape.

Aziraphale stroked his hand along Cat’s soft fur, and the slender black creature stirred and lifted his head, opening those familiar golden eyes.

“Good morning, Cat,” said Aziraphale gently. “It is a _very_ good morning, too. Last night was just… Well, I don’t really have words. I suppose you may not fully understand just now…”

Cat head-butted against Aziraphale’s hand, demanding further petting, and the angel obliged.

“I do like you as Cat, and this is very sweet, but I do rather hope I’ll see Crowley just a little more often, now? There are certain things I really can’t do with a cat, and I find, after last night, that I’m quite interested in doing them on a regular basis.”

With a leisurely yawn Cat rose and hopped down from Aziraphale’s chest onto the bed. He stretched there, forepaws extended, tail in the air, twisted around to lick himself once, indecently, and then straightened, and suddenly Crowley was there again, as naked and unashamed as the cat had been.

“Morning.”

“I was just saying that it is a very good morning.” Aziraphale beamed at the demon.

Crowley chuckled. “Suppose it is, suppose it is.”

“Are you…alright, my dear?”

Crowley shrugged. “Right enough to get by.”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a long, slightly worried look. Finally he said, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Be you,” said Crowley, the corner of his mouth quirking up for just an instant. “Pet the cat. Do… All that last night. That’ll do.”

Aziraphale smiled, but then frowned faintly. “Did it actually help, though? You went right back to being Cat. Doesn’t that mean that you’re still…escaping everything? I thought we were both feeling pretty good at the end of things there.”

Crowley smiled. “Course I was! But it just takes a thought, you know? And then my mind is going around and around and around. I can’t stop thinking the same bunch of bollocks over and over. Being Cat just stops it going round, you know?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I believe I see.”

“I’ll try to be me, for you, when I can.” Then Crowley’s eyes lit with sudden mischief. “Though, you know, if you want to…carry on while I’m being Cat, you could be a cat too.”

“What?” Aziraphale blinked at Crowley in astonishment, and the demon laughed.

“You’d make a smashing tomcat, I bet you’d be fluffy as anything.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” Aziraphale smiled, finding himself ridiculously blushing. “But, I mean…that? As an animal? I couldn’t possibly…”

“The nice thing about being a cat, is when you’re a cat, you don’t care about that sort of thing. I bet if I lifted my tail just right you’d be all over me.” Crowley’s grin was downright lascivious, and Aziraphale found his blush deepening, and certain other reactions were starting too, somewhere just south of his navel, despite the absurdity of the image of the two of them carrying on as cats.

He remembered all they’d done last night, decided that there was no reason to not act on that feeling. “I do believe I am about to be all over you anyway, Crowley my dearest,” he said, and then he positively pounced on the demon, who let out a sound of startled surprise that was almost instantly muffled by Aziraphale’s lips.

When they both came up for air again, Crowley murmured, “You really would make a fantastic cat…”

“Maybe later,” said Aziraphale. “Right now I want you just the way you are.”

Crowley’s eyes widened, and his face softened as he looked up at Aziraphale. “Just the way I am?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale firmly. “I like you just the way you are, every bit of you, including questions, including Cat. All of it, everything, you. I love you, Crowley.”

“You are so wonderful. I love you so much, my angel,” replied Crowley fervently, and then they were kissing again, deep and wonderful and hot and tender, and seeming like it could go on forever, but didn’t, because they found other and even more interesting ways to express their love after the kiss was done.

The bookshop opened very late that day, and both the proprietor and the shop’s cat seemed to be in an uncommonly good mood that even the most testy and impatient of customers couldn’t dent.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus artwork:
> 
>   
> [Click for bigger](http://sparkcostumes.com/artwork/albums/userpics/IMG_20190629_121407539.jpg).
> 
> I couldn't resist this idea. Crowley is a needy bugger, I am pretty sure, and so are cats. It was just going to be pure fluff, but then I started thinking about _why_ Crowley might want to not be human for a while, and it went all angsty on me.
> 
> Good Omens has completely eaten my brain. Expect more stories to come.
> 
> If you'd like to see me talk about writing, my works in progress, other creative endeavors, and my life in general, check out [my Dreamwidth blog](https://bladespark.dreamwidth.org/).


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